Wasp's Sting
by chronically radioactive
Summary: Scorpius/Rose - Rose is bothered - in more ways than one - by Scorpius's choice of words. Parody of a scene in Taming of the Shrew.


**a/n: This was written at about three am, and not really re-read. If it has mistakes, please let me know. Reviews are brilliant, but no bashing, please. It makes me sad. ;D **

Rose sat in the library, alone at a circular table. Piles of books surrounded her at every side, but she didn't seem to mind. Studying was one thing she exceled at, and actually enjoyed. In fact, she could even consider it a hobby. As she scribbled furiously at a four-thousand word essay for Charms, and worked on a diagram of a creature's skeleton for Care of Magical Creatures, a book was pulled from the tall stack in front of her. Glancing upwards at the slight disturbance, Rose was met with a pair of liquid-metal eyes. Her heart fluttered slightly, and she quirked an eyebrow. No one she knew had such lovely eyes, except for…

"Weasley. I didn't know you were a nerd even at this hour," a familiar voice said, and she rubbed her temple. It was so confusing, how his voice could both tempt her and make her want to rip her own eardrums out. "Malfoy, fuck off. I really don't have time for you at the moment," she muttered. Her textbook closed with a dull thump. Now that he was here and intent on annoying her, she wasn't going to get any work done. Keeping a book open was utterly useless.

"Nonsense, Weasley. _All _girls want to spend time with me," he responded arrogantly, and Rose had to agree. Scorpius was charming, intelligent, and downright gorgeous, and if any female dared say they hadn't fantasized about his hair or eyes at least once, they were lying. Hell, even some male alumni wanted to start a bromance with the ever-awesome Scorpius Malfoy. They were envious and completely willing to trot behind him like kicked puppies, picking up whatever poor girl Scorpius turned down.

"Especially _very _late at night, alone in a common room."

A slight clearing of her throat masked a hitch in her breath, and Rose rolled her eyes at her behavior. He couldn't yet see her face, as she had heard the chair across the table complain against the stone floor as it was sharply tugged out. She was perfectly aware. Wherever she went in the morning, at least one girl was cooing and bragging about a late-night session with the self-deemed Slytherin Sex God. Whether it was just snogging - or more like the title implied – Rose never stuck around to hear.

Rose didn't reply, simply waited. Scorpius began taking down the stack of textbooks in front of her. Rose took the opportunity to quickly yank fingers through her hair in an attempt to tame the mane of dark red waves, and tried to paste an uncaring expression on her face. As the top of Scorpius's head came into view over her copy of _A History, _she lost hope in remaining calming. She had only seen his parents once or twice in her lifetime. Once, and for the first time, when her father had pointed him out on the platform seven years ago, and another during her fifth year while shopping for a new broomstick. His father's hair color had obviously been passed down, only intensified in the Malfoy heir's genes. It was a stark, platinum blonde. Unlike his father's, Scorpius refused to gel it, and instead kept it medium length so that the tips from the nape of his neck reached just to his earlobes. It wasn't necessarily long, but Rose had seen him with a hairpin or two pushing it back. No doubt they were from his nightstand, where girls left them over the course of the night. She had also seen him – Merlin help her - run his hands through the top layer, pushing it back into a ridiculously spiky faux mohawk. It looked anything but stupid (sexy, even), considering the shorter length, and Rose watched as it appeared over the next book being removed.

"Your quietness frightens me, Weasley," came his voice again, and when the next book was removed, Rose caught sight of his eyes again, glinting with mischief and…some strange thing she couldn't get a read on. "It's nice to have that annoying pair of fish lips shut, for once." he quipped, removing the last book and smirking. If it was meant to get her attention and anger her, it certainly worked.

"And it's nice to see _that_ pair of diseased lips not spreading some virus around," Rose easily shot back, raising an eyebrow and opening her book again. She needed to get her attention away from the stupid prick if she was going to get anything done. His chuckle made her fume more, and she glanced up to see him leaning closer, the same smirk still on said mouth. "Weasley, do I detect a hint of jealousy?"

"Merlin no, Malfoy. You're failing to distinguish an insult to your promiscuity with flirting." Rose rolled her eyes for the second time that evening, and brought a hand to rest up against the side of her face, trying yet again to focus.

"You hurt me, Weasley. Are you always this cruel to suitors?"

Suitors? What? Rose glanced up at him sharply, only to see him break into an even wider Cheshire grin, if it was possible. "Excited at the prospect?" he asked, and began fiddling with the end of her quill. Rose grabbed it away, careful not to touch his hand. It would only distract her further, and she knew it.

"Not at all."

She felt a foot nudge at her own, and pulled back sharply. He shrugged and crossed his arms. Rose desperately wanted to ask why the hell he was in the library as late as she was, and why he couldn't just bloody fucking _leave._

"You're so mean, Weasley!" he said dramatically, clutching at his chest and feigning a miserable, longing look. "You know, Zabini was right." Scorpius admitted, shrugging his shoulders and leaving the trap. Rose took the bait, and looked up at him once more. "Right about what?"

"He called you a vivacious little wasp earlier; said you went around stinging people," the smile faded into an indifferent one, only Rose could tell he was waiting for a response. "Right through the heart, I suppose is what the rumor says?" she asked, and he nodded solemnly.

Rose appraised him for a moment more, before standing up and gathering the books she owned into a small pile, tucking parchment into various folders, and slipping her quill behind her ear. "Well then, Malfoy, I advise you to stay away. I'll probably sting you," she quipped, and nodded at him before pushing her chair in, and fleeing as fast as she could.

"Hey wait! Weasley!"

Bollucks. She wasn't fast _enough_.

Stopping at the bottom of a ladder, reaching up into the mountain of a bookcase above her, Rose quirked an eyebrow again. Scorpius was jogging to catch up to her, and Rose realized she had covered a fair amount of ground. When he approached her, Rose could tell he was bloody smirking again. It always made her want to wipe stupid, sexy expression off his face. With her mou- a book. Yes, she wanted to send a book straight into his face. "You couldn't sting me if you tried." Scorpius said triumphantly, and she laughed. "I'd pull out your stinger, and you wouldn't be able to hurt me." Rose realized he was being completely serious, and chuckled again at the ridiculously victorious look on his face. "Hah. You're too stupid to know where a wasp's sting comes from,"

"Of course I do. A wasp's stinger is in between its legs, isn't it?" Scorpius lazily took her figure in – even her lopsided tie and wrinkled dress shirt. He was obviously seeing something she couldn't.

Rose's faced flushed with anger, and a bit of something else. Was he suggesting she was verbally cruelbecause she w_-_? Rose glared up at him, cursing her own medium height, and his fortunate inheritance of a six-foot stature. Angry blue eyes met whimsical, cold grey, and she snapped. "You're so hung up on shagging, you fantasize about it everywhere, Malfoy." Rose accused, turning her back and slipped around the corner of the bookcase, clutching her books tighter. How dare he talk about her like that? What a complete prick!

"Bullshit, Rosie."

She stopped at her name, realizing it was the first time he'd ever used it. With a quick gesture, her back was against the bookshelf, knocking the air from her chest and effectively making her drop her books. There was no barrier between them now, and she felt unprotected. He was picking on her, she knew, getting her close enough to him so that she could feel his breath on her face. Any moment now, he would laugh loudly and run off to tell his friends how absolutely _flustered_ he had made Rose Know-It-All Weasley. A blush was quickly spreading across her freckled face, the accursed one she had inherited from her father. She was sure she looked quite ridiculous: red as her birth name and close to panting. The effect he had on her was obvious, but she still tried to deny it. It was completely normal to overheat in December, wasn't it?

Rose felt the breath on her face grow closer, and she was suddenly grateful that it wasn't horrid and smelly, like some boys she had known. Instead, it was pleasant, smelling of toothpaste and vanilla, and Rose fought to keep herself from leaning forward to see if it was just his scent in general.

"I only think about sex when you're around, Rosie," he muttered, sounding all too sincere for his own good. Malfoys were never sincere – they were sneaky little ferrets. Rose's blush grew, and she immediately pushed away his arm, which had been hanging by her head, caging her in.

"You horny, stupid git. Fuck off!" Rose snapped, ducking away from him, and stepping away. There wasn't any path to get her books back, and the lazy smile on the Slytherin's face told her he wasn't planning to move. Rose's eyebrows knitted together in annoyance, and she turned her head up at him condescendingly. "And don't act as if I'm the only one who stings either." she countered. "You might be too high-and-mighty to realize it, but _you_ sting too." She thought a moment, struggling for the best explanation. "With your tongue."

Scorpius lifted an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" he wondered, and his honesty curiosity sparked her on.

"The way you bloody talk to me!" she snapped, and looked about. He'd block an escape route easily.

"Talk to you? I've never been anything but polite with you, Rose. Teasing aside," he said, and Rose tapped her foot impatiently.

"No! Like…how you _sound!" _

Scorpius tilted his head, and she watched as his hair fell to one side. She felt the need to fix it, but didn't dare move. "How I sound…?" his question dropped off, he thought a moment, and then he grinned.

He stepped forward a bit, only for Rose to match his steps backwards.

"You mean like this, Rosie?"

Rose shivered, closing her eyes. By the end of his sentence, he had dropped his voice, and had rasped her name. Nodding triumphantly, he surrendered and cleared his throat, giving her a moment of fresh air. He kept his eyes glued to her while she tried to gain control of her breath, and bring up the façade of toughness up again.

To him, Rose stung with her body, but in a way less vulgar than he had said. It wasn't as if she knew, but he had been hung up on the redheaded vixen since he had hit puberty. Although it wasn't a purely physical attraction, Scorpius was a teenage boy and it played a large part. Rose Weasley was a nerd, sure, but she was also one of the unattainable things he couldn't have – she refused dates, ignored those who showed an interest, and remained by herself. Even better, she would reprimand and belittle anyone who tried to get closer to her. She was absolutely wild as a Quidditch player; devoted student; a clever, vivacious, single young woman who thought she had the personality of a pebble, and looks of a possum. In reality, her situation couldn't be any opposite. Scorpius wanted to tame that harsh tongue of hers, thus the source of her annoyance for the past years. To him, she was tempting and set on a pedestal, too high for him to reach. Her body_ and _wit tempted him.

"Seems my sting has affected you," he teased, slinking towards to her, giving up on giving her breathing room. Rose suddenly felt trapped, being stalked like a predator its prey would. The fiercely needy look in his eyes both excited and frightened her. She began stepping backward, cursing colorfully when her back hit another bookcase. She looked about wildly, for any escape from the "danger". At once, all routes of escape were cut off as he neared her again, raising both arms near her head, and grinning down at her. There were no candles in the area she had retreated into, aside from a candle a few bookcases away. She had left her wand in the stack of books she had dropped, thus lighting the area with magic was out of the question. Besides, if she tried to escape now, he would more than likely catch her.

She was forced to look at his dimly lit face, adding a whole new level of adrenaline to her system. Both of his eyes had clouded with lust, feigning the appearance of a storm. "Who would you _ever _sting, Rosie? And where?" He lifted one hand to his chest again, like he had earlier.

Rose tried her best to continue her poisonous glare, but was about to give in. With a shake of her head, she lifted her chin again, trying her best to put herself above his childish immaturity. "I'd sting _you_. On the tongue," she threatened, despite the tug of a smile at his lips, "so you could bloody stop bothering me with that irritating voice."

At her words, Scorpius leaned forward. Too close, too close, too close. Rose closed her eyes, turning her head to his approaching. It proved a bad idea as she felt a cloud of breath on her neck, just below her jawline. Suddenly, her legs felt like jelly, and she grabbed onto his shirt to support herself. If her legs had been working, Rose would have kicked herself for giving into him so easily. "So," he said, breath tickling her skin again. Rose turned her downwards to escape him, but now he was hovering above her pulse point. "What you're saying is you'd fight my sting with your own?" Rose floated back to reality, looking down slightly and blinking at the top of his head. "W-What?"

"You'd retaliate to my sting with your own?" he muttered, although it was muffled, as he had almost buried his face into the muscle separating her neck from her shoulders. Rose stifled a sigh, and tried to shrug. "Yes, seems like…seems like the only way to beat you," she supplied, although her mind was growing fuzzy almost as quickly as her heart was beating. Rose had felt dizzy as soon as she felt his lips on her neck. He was smirking – she could feel the contours of that damn mouth on her skin.

"You're saying you'd let my tongue on your body?"

Rose's eyes flew open from their blissful state, and she gaped. With a sudden burst of energy, she ducked under his arm and away from his head, scooting as far as possible from him. "W-what? No! I never said that! You're trying to…to get lucky or something?" she stopped, placing one hand on her hip. "I never said that!"

For a moment he remained in the same stance, as if he had a ghost of her still pinned against the bookcase. When he looked up, the smile had vanished, and he looked startlingly indifferent. "Yes, you did. You said my sting was my tongue, didn't you?"

"I-I never…Yes, but…But I never agreed that…That's not fair! You backed me into a corner!"

He had won. A pleased, lazy smile grew on his face.

"Yes, Rosie. I quite literally did."

**a/n: This is a parody of a scene in Taming of the Shrew, when Kate and Petruchio meet. Basically, Petruchio tells her people have referred to her as wild as an animal, and he chooses to relate her to a wasp. She tells him if she is a wasp, he'd better beware of her sting. He confidently says he'd pull her stinger out. He literally means to tame her, and she scoffs at the idea, calling him stupid and saying he wouldn't know where a stinger is. She's referring to her sharp tongue and standoffishness, but he turns it into an innuendo by saying her "tail" does the stinging. Kate quickly says that a sting is in her tongue, referring to wasps that bite, while Petruchio is talking about bees that sting. Kate's metaphor means that she will sting him with her wit, but Petruchio's metaphor implies that he will "pull out" the stinger from Katherine's "tail," a reference to her…ya know. ;D**

**Petruchio asks "Whose tongue?" Kate says, "Yours, if you talk of tales," meaning that if he tries to pursue her, she will "sting" him on his tongue. But Petruchio again turns this into ANOTHER innuendo, interested at the picture of his tongue in her "tail". Basically, this scene is setting up the IMMENSE sexual tension between them. I switched this up a bit, as you can probably tell.**


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